


like strawberry wine

by CampionSayn



Series: February Prompts 2020 [24]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M, Prince of Hell!Crowley, Throne!Aziraphale, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, post-Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: Blasted summer heat!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: February Prompts 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621750
Kudos: 34





	like strawberry wine

There was the way he moved and saw things that really meant more than all the world put together to the Prince of Hell, the first time Aziraphale had walked out of Heaven in six thousand years.  
  
It was very strange to him, probably, despite Crowley and Gabriel having done the best they could to tell them how things had progressed. Birds, beasts, technology before his very eyes. What children were and how that was probably the entire point of Creation—so Herself could have scores of grandchildren as angels and demons were too stupid and lacked the creativity to do that for Her.  
  
Gabriel and Beelzebub hadn’t noticed his approach yet, too busy talking about how their mutual trips Above and Below had gone; they hadn’t noticed Crowley either, but the Prince had been in the world so much that he was used to masking.  
  
Aziraphale had no such tact and if one afforded the slightest bit of attention, they could have felt him across the ocean, space and time.  
  
It felt a little like the dithering of a cake maker in a professional shop that knew the food was always going to be eaten, but couldn’t help but put as much love and tenderness into the design, taste and configuration as they could before putting it out.  
  
Like those bakers that had learned to make cakes look like the night sky or daybreak before the cutting into to die for flavors.  
  
Smiling gently, Crowley approached the Throne _(how insane was that? His first molting had been Her effort to prepare and change him for the sake of himself as well as his friend; probably to make a point to the Archangels without saying a word. Two shifts in form in one go and he was of higher authority than any one angel or demon Crowley had ever met, aside from himself)_ with his usual lofty swagger, a strawberry stick and vanilla ice lolly in hand.  
  
Grey-blue eyes noticed him after a moment, blinking at the sunlight that lit up his beige vintage clothing and flaming red hair far more than the light of the Archives ever had, and smiling at the entrance of who he considered his dearest friend, “Oh, hello my dear. Did you make out well down Below with your side of things?”  
  
“Almost better than I’d hoped,” he grinned, almost preening at the pet name and offering the angel his choice of sweet treat, “All it took was the paperwork and a bit of a show to make it clear the two of them weren’t to be bothered and here we are. I doubt anyone will try anything between the four of us and Adam.”  
  
Aziraphale looked between the food, tilting his head and looking up at his favorite person almost like a baby deer, inquiringly.  
  
“It’s food, Angel. Summer treats that humans have been making since the second World War. They’re both good, but we can trade if you don’t like the first one.”  
  
Understanding dawned and Aziraphale smiled, wide and innocent as any child given a treat for the first time _(Crowley almost discorporated internally trying not to let his entire being blush as red as the strawberry in hand, he was so **damn** **PRETTY** )_ before taking up the strawberry stick and taking a small bite.  
  
Then another bite; a lick at the little globs of sugared dairy trying to race down and decorate his knuckles; pink tongue taking up every morsel and the demon before him steadily failing to reign in the blood circulating through him and settling in two very prominent areas of his body. Like some nervous, hormonal human teenager at their first school dance standing at the punch bowl and trying not to just stare at another teenager they’d been dying to dance with for ages.  
  
Blasted summer heat!  
  
When Aziraphale was halfway through the treat and had bit into the cone with the chocolate inlaid within, finally looking back up and Crowley, he swallowed and took up the demon’s empty hand, squeezing it in gratitude and smiling all the more for the meal and the contact.  
  
“It’s good! Thank you, my dear.”  
  
Crowley completely ignored the little tremble in his voice at his reply, trying to hide his face by taking a whole bite out of the lolly in his other hand, but still squeezing back on the _(so soft, so soft, so soft)_ hand that had taken his, “Glad you like it.”  
  
  



End file.
